


Deus Ex Auris

by schroedingersfox



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bickering, Gen, One Shot, Stealth Tony, Tony Stark makes bad decisions, this is why he's not a spy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3223133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schroedingersfox/pseuds/schroedingersfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony doesn't do stealth—that's not his thing. And yet, he still agrees to sneak his way through a heavily-guarded compound with no suit, a small handgun, and a trickster god "helping" him with directions.</p><p>The bigger the risk, the greater the reward... but this was a <i>really</i> stupid bet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deus Ex Auris

 

“Okay, four guys. I got this.”

“There are five, actually.”

Tony chanced another look around the corner before pulling back. “So I missed one. I’m not Hawkeye, all right?”

There was a scoff in his ear. “That sort of carelessness that will get you killed, Stark," Loki said, sounding more entertained at that prospect than actually concerned for Tony or the outcome of the mission. The asshole.

Loki made a thoughtful noise as he eyed the map of the complex. It was a large shipping facility, which meant plenty of security but also an abundance of places to hide in. Tony couldn’t exactly go in guns blazing—he’d be shot dead in seconds with all the hired guns walking around like portable armories. He missed his suit, but that wasn’t an option right now.

“Take the hall to the right,” Loki told him. “It’s a longer path around, but it provides more cover.”

Tony rolled his eyes and reloaded his gun. The small pistol wasn’t his first choice—Nat had always been better at weapons requiring more accuracy when heavy armor was involved; she could get a clean shot without trying—but it was silenced and less attention-grabbing than a rocket launcher. “If you’re going to back-seat drive the entire time, then why don’t you take over?”

The smirk in Loki’s voice was evident. “I’m not the one with something to prove.”

“Fine, right, so five guards, and I just need to get to the southwest corner of the room. No problem.” He shifted his position a bit, poked his head out again, and then rechecked the map. “You know, maybe I should gather my bearings for a bit.”

“ _STARK._ ”

“Geez! Okay, _Mom_ , I’m going. Don’t rush me.”

With a last, deep exhale, Tony darted out from his hiding spot towards the loading bay, hugging the walls and keeping to the balls of his feet to minimize sound. He kept as low as he could without making visibility awkward, silently praying with each step that the guards ahead wouldn’t look his way. He dove behind a large crate and pressed himself to it. _To the right, go to the right_. The low, constant hum of the warehouse machinery helped to mask the sounds of his movements, but it also worked against him for the same reason. It made him nervous.

There were footsteps coming in his direction from the other side of the crate. Tony swore under his breath and stayed as still as possible as he heard someone start to speak _just above him_.

“Do you know when Jenkins is coming back? Fucker took all his paid vacation at once and put me on double shifts. I’m gonna kill him.”

The small crackle of a radio answered. “I think he said he was going to Philly to see his girl.”

“If that sonuvabitch thinks he can ignore my calls he’s got another thing comin’.”

Tony eyed the open shipping container in front of him. Only one door was open, casting a dark shadow inside. The guard behind him was still talking into the receiver, and when Tony glanced up he saw the armored back of a man as he leaned against Tony’s crate. He looked at the shipping container again. _Go. Now. While he’s distracted._

The rubber soles of his tactical boots made no sound as he bolted in a running crouch, swinging himself inside and against the closed door.

“That was risky, Stark,” Loki suddenly murmured.

At Tony’s feet were the wooden remains of a box that had been pried open. _Perfect._ He holstered his gun and hefted a piece as long as his forearm into his hands. “Yeah, well, it worked, didn’t it?”

He balanced one end of the slat in his hand as he aimed up a shot. “God, I hope this works too.”

The wood went spinning through the air, a wide berth to the left of the guard, and crashed into a metal shelf, spilling its contents onto the floor below. The man started at the sound and jumped to his feet. “What the fuck?” He gave a quick look around before pulling the rifle from his side, and cautiously walked to the remains of the shelf. Two others were on their way to join him as well, and Tony knew he only had a few seconds before they started checking the area.

Exiting the container, he kept low to the ground and quickly made his way towards the hallway that Loki had mentioned earlier.

“Wait, Stark, there’s a room up ahead. Go inside.”

"Like I said, you’re fully welcome to take over,” Tony replied, but without much venom, and he changed course. The door was unlocked and Tony could’ve kissed it for that. He opened the door only enough to slip inside, and then closed it, spinning to face the room.

A part of his brain entertained the idea that this was where he had truly fucked up and all he’d get was a shell to the stomach for his efforts. But no one was there, and he let out the breath he had been holding. “Did you know it was empty?”

Loki laughed in his ear. “Lucky guess.”

Tony frowned and tried not to whine. “You could’ve gotten me killed!”

“Perhaps. But seeing as you _are_ still alive, you should take a look around.”

He had a point. There were still some pieces about all this that weren’t matching up, and it was assumed that one of the computers might have the evidence they needed to shut this place down. With all he had seen, Tony was convinced that it was a front for a larger, more sinister organization. What kind of party supplies distribution warehouse had military-grade security?

Tony headed to the computer at the sparse desk in the middle of the room. As a matter of routine—and due to experience with actual military computers—Tony always tried “password” for the login screen. It had worked earlier, in fact, and he had been pleased as punch to confirm that bad guys were continuing the tradition of stupid as hell computer habits.

The screen’s dialog box shook when he typed “password” and hit enter. _Login failed. You have 2 more attempts before lockdown._

Well damn, so much for that. Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device, plugging it into the terminal. He set the program to run, and eight seconds later, the screen unlocked. The program would search the computer for any relevant files and download a copy without a trace, so now Tony could only wait until it was finished.

He was getting anxious. The little distraction stunt he pulled wouldn’t last for long, and pretty soon he’d have to escape this office—unless they found him first.

But Loki seemed to be strategizing as well. “There,” he announced, “in the upper corner of the wall. That’s how you’ll get out.”

Tony looked and immediately shook his head. “No way. Crawling in vents is Clint’s thing; I’m not getting in there.”

“Swallow your pride and get in the duct.”

The device beeped once, and Tony pulled it from the computer. “It could be trapped!”

Loki sighed like he was arguing with a disobedient child. “Why would they sabotage their own air system? Any small vermin would set it off.”

“I don’t know!” Tony hissed. “They’re bad guys!” He pointed to a second door. “I’ll try that one; maybe it leads to another hallway. Or even a sewer entrance. I’d rather slog through questionable water than get stuck in a vent.”

“That room is not on the map, Stark. If there were ever a place to set a trap, that would be it.”

“No, see, that makes it a perfect place to put a secret sewer entrance. I’m going in.”

Tony fried the electronic lock on the door with a creative use of his stun gun and pushed it open, revealing a storage locker of spare weapons and crates of ammunition. There was enough for a one-man army; it was only a shame that he couldn't just take all of it and Rambo his way out of there. He whistled appreciatively.

“Now _that’s_ why it’s not on the map,” he said, taking a careful step into the room.

“Tony, wait—”

A small ping was his only warning before the mine strapped to the wall exploded, the blast throwing Tony back and onto the desk. His ears were ringing and he couldn’t see, vision blurred and shot to hell. He groaned as he rolled off, hitting the floor with a thud.

“Get up _now,_ ” Loki snapped. “You’ve alerted the guards and they’re coming. _Get in the vent_.”

He nodded and stumbled towards the back wall, pushing a chair under the grate and opening it. He hoisted himself up inside before turning around and shutting the grate again—not that it wasn’t obvious where he went, but leaving it open just screamed it.

The inside of the metal ducts were wide and tall enough that he could walk through them in a crouch, only slightly better than having to crawl the whole way.

“Right. Left. Another left,” Loki softly directed, and Tony followed. The alarmed shouts behind him got quieter the farther he traveled, which was good, because it didn’t sound like he was being followed. Maybe all the armor they wore was too big, and Tony had a moment of understanding for why Clint’s uniform was always so form-fitting.

Tony heard a voice float through the vents from up ahead and slowed, coming to a slatted opening at his feet. He peered through and saw a man on the phone, red-faced with fury.

“What do you _mean_ you never had a visual? Someone just waltzed right in here, set off an explosion, and disappeared into the vents? No, don’t follow him. You can send a guy in there for all I care but unless he’s a fucking _psychic_ he’s not going to find _shit_. I’d rather have your men sweeping the entire complex and perimeter instead of crawling through vents like a goddamned rat. Put everyone on alert. No one’s leaving until we find him or his corpse.”

He slammed the phone onto its receiver and stormed out of sight. Tony heard a door harshly open and close, and the room below him settled into quiet. He waited a couple of minutes, and then gently lifted up the grate, easing himself down and out of the ducts.

“I wondered if you’d crawl out of your hole,” a voice said behind him. Tony felt his stomach lodge in his throat and he slowly turned around. The guy was huge, as big as Thor, sharp black tattoos crawling up his throat and winding their way down his arms—details Tony could intimately see on the hand holding a gun to his chest. “Boss never did say he wanted you for questioning. A pity.”

He pulled the trigger, and all Tony saw was black.

 

 

“Well shit,” said Tony, vigorously rubbing his hands over his face and tousling his hair. “That was stupid.”

“It’s a wonder you haven’t blown yourself up in that armor of yours, if these are the kind of strategic decisions you make.”

Tony sunk against the back of the couch, turning his head to look at the demi-god sitting on the seat beside him. No, that wasn’t the right word—he was practically curled into the opposite corner, his feet pulled up on the cushion next to Tony’s thigh. Loki’s hands were wrapped around a mug resting on his knees, and he raised his brows in a question at Tony’s tired stare.

“So? Start over.”

“But I can just load a save and—”

“Who was it that wanted to play by _Ironman_ rules? Bragged about it to Barton, in fact?”

Tony groaned as he sunk farther down, controller resting on his lap as he looked to the screen asking him if he wanted to continue from his last save.

“Those rules are stupid,” he muttered petulantly. “I’d totally redo stuff if I could.”

A small smirk flit across Loki’s face, and he hid it behind his mug. “Yes, well. If you perfect a means of time travel, please do let me know.”

“Yeah, right,” Tony laughed. “And I thought _this_ bet was a bad idea.” But still he stretched his arms over his head, tucked himself into his own corner of the couch, and started a new game.


End file.
